


Black Coats

by sweetiepie08



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Flynn is not a fashion disaster he is a fashionable disaster, get it right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 20:10:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiepie08/pseuds/sweetiepie08
Summary: In the days before Garcia Flynn puts his plans into action, he looks over the racks of meticulously chosen historical outfits. As he admires them, one question comes to mind. What would Lorena think of this?





	Black Coats

_What would Lorena think of this? _

That question haunted him ever since the seeds of his plan sprouted in his brain. It was almost time now, and the proof stood before in him in the form of racks of historically accurate clothes. He couldn’t help but notice a disproportionate amount of black coats.

Acquiring them wasn’t easy. The challenge didn’t simply lay in details or Flynn’s above-average height. He’d always been picky, even as a little kid. No mom, he couldn’t wear the maroon shoes with the cherry red shirt! They were completely different types of red! Back then, his mother might have expected him to get into fashion or some other creative field. His life certainly took an unexpected turn.

This part was almost fun. It was at least the closest thing he felt to fun in a long time. He scoured thrift shops, high-end costume retailers, and even commissioned a few off of Etsy. His associates must have thought he was being a little ridiculous, what with him rejecting certain pieces for the simple fact he didn’t like how they looked. He couldn’t help himself. He had standards.

It wouldn’t be the first time his standards slowed him down. He remembered getting ready for his first date with Lorena. He was so nervous in the days leading up to it. He mentally fretted over what to wear, cycled through several outfits before setting on a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up just-so. He arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes late to see Lorena sitting at an outdoor table in denim shorts and summery top. Somehow, he’d forgotten to account for the fact that it was July. He spent dinner trying desperately to hide how much he was sweating. Lorena never let him live it down.

Every time they went out, he was always the last one ready. She liked to tease him about how long he took to style his hair or press his shirts just right. _Are you sure you ironed it enough? I don’t know if you can cut through steel with the crease just yet. _The mischievous twinkle in her eye made him smile every time.

Then their daughter came along, and he was possibly more excited about buying baby clothes than anyone else, not even the grandmothers. The actual reality of having a slobbering, messy baby usually resulted in her meticulously picked outfits getting soiled, but he always knew how to get the stains out. Then, one day when she was older, they caught her in their room, surrounded by ties she’d pulled off his rack. He was about to scold her, but then she said “Daddy, these are so pretty,” and he couldn’t help but flash his wife a smug, satisfied grin. From that day on, he let her choose his tie every day. Lorena joked it actually made the process quicker.

_Iris would like this,_ he thought, fingering an 18th century cravat. She was well on her way to becoming a little fashionista in her own right before…

He clenched his fists, wrinkling the fabric. He’d iron it out later. There was more important work to do. He took a step back and scanned each outfit, mentally calculating when and where each would be used. They were tools. Each had their part to play. Each represented another step in taking down Rittenhouse.

His eye caught a gilded button on a coat. He remembered particularly liking that one when he found it. Here he was, on the verge of bringing down a historical conspiracy, and still concerning himself with fashion. _Lorena would think this was hilarious._

A chuckle traveled up his throat and escaped from his mouth. His own laugh reminded him of hers. She would be laughing at him right now. _Really, Love? Really? Guess you can’t go on a time heist without a 100% silk pocket square._ _Make sure it’s maroon and not burgundy._ _What will Queen Victoria say? Given how you’re dressing, I assume she invited you to tea._

She’d joke around while he was getting dressed and he’d complain that he couldn’t fold the pocket square right if he was laughing. But she couldn’t laugh with him anymore. His own voice was the only one echoing around the warehouse.

He felt a sting behind his eyes and sunk to his knees. The laughter died on his lips and another sound took its place. Even if he won, even if he brought them back, he’d never laugh with her again. He wouldn’t deserve it. It’d be worth it, though. It’d be worth everything he’d done and everything he was about to do.

The world needed them. It was too dark without them.


End file.
